If Ye Break Faith
by hardly loquacious
Summary: He felt he needed to lie to her.  She hated it but wasn't surprised.  They'd always expected to lose each other anyway.  Part of my AU established J/L series, post 2.22-2.23.
1. Chapter 1

This is the finale post-ep I never thought I'd write. Actually, it's a post-ep for the last two episodes of season 2 (2.22 and 2.23), or the Kristina Frye episodes. I'm just sneaking it in before the premiere (not a word Yana!) It's also sixth in my AU Established J/L post-ep series. The series includes Mutual Liberation, To hold but maybe not to keep, In all Fairness, Overnight Abandon and The Sins of our Fathers. You don't have to have read any of them to understand this, but it would probably help. J/L are in an established relationship of sorts. But they're not quite dating. Reading Mutual Liberation should give you an idea of what it's like.

This is dedicated to Yana, who, along with inspiring the entire series, somehow made me think this was a good idea. And hey, maybe it was. What do I know?

It's what I'm calling a one-shot in two parts. Basically, it's really only one-chapter. But that chapter was so insanely long that I decided to break it up into two for ease of reading purposes. I'm posting both parts simultaneously though, since really, it's all part of the same story, and waiting just didn't sit well with me.

I still own nothing. Somehow I doubt I ever will.

xxxxx

If Ye Break Faith

xxxxx

It was absolutely imperative that he lie to her.

Especially now. Red John potentially had another mole, another person caught in his web who'd had a chance to observe both Jane and Lisbon up close. A particularly perceptive mole too. Not that Lisbon would have given much away. He hadn't either for that matter. Well he hoped not at least. He _had_ admittedly been a little distracted. And who knows what the so-called psychic might have seen, might have guessed, might even _know_ about their secrets. Now, unless they found Kristina Frye or she turned up dead somewhere, the stupid _psychic_ was a danger to them.

He may have deserved the danger, but Lisbon didn't. So he would continue to lie to her.

Jane stared up at the ceiling. It shouldn't be difficult. Not now. Not when he'd already cracked them.

Any more lies were just going to crack them more.

xxxxx

Some people must have normal lives, right?

Okay, maybe they weren't _completely_ normal. Everyone has their little quirks, their hidden secrets. But for the most part some people must have hints of the ordinary, family, friends, a job they can let go of when they walk into their home at night.

And even if they _did_ have crazy jobs, hell, even if they _did_ work in law enforcement, her life wasn't the norm. It just, it couldn't be.

She was something of an exception. Right?

After all, most people's parents weren't both dead by the time they hit their eighteenth birthday. Most people probably also didn't have the experience of finding their father's body themselves, or of sitting up at night five years later, on the phone with their younger brother, trying to talk him through the night when he was trying to get sober. The majority of the population didn't have to deal with a possibly certifiably insane consultant dedicated to killing a serial killer. And it was her understanding that most consultants didn't come with personal (and highly dangerous) vendettas for their boss to deal with.

If there _were_ other bosses with that particular problem, well, they probably had the good sense not to start _sleeping_ with that consultant, especially not for reasons that weren't entirely clear.

Probably weren't obsessed with a job that just might literally kill them either.

They almost definitely didn't have basically nothing else in their lives.

And they probably didn't lie awake at night because they felt what little they did have slipping away from them.

Lisbon sighed to herself, in bed, alone in the darkness. A normal life was possible for some people. It had to be. What little faith she had left wasn't _completely_ misplaced.

Was it?

xxxxx

It was all his own fault really.

He'd been caught up in emotions he hadn't felt in far too long, distracted by the sheer _novelty_ of it all. Well, that and the fact that the fascination he was experiencing had been clearly mutual.

As soon as Jane heard the competent if uninspiring sheriff claim to have a psychic of his own Jane had known the case was going to be particularly fun. After all, another person working within their area of expertise would have been enough to grab anyone's interest. The fact that it in this instance it wasn't just anyone, it was _her,_ simply made it even more irresistible to him. Jane had walked into the hall with Lisbon and the sheriff who was in so far out of his depth it was almost comical, and there she was, Kristina Frye. With the familiar air of superiority, the knowing smirk, the friendly smile that gave nothing away, and the curls he'd noticed the first time they met, the ones that set off a pair of very pretty eyes.

Jane admitted that he'd always had a fascination with eyes.

You could read so much in most people's after all.

And even apart from her eyes, he was intrigued by Kristina. It was so tempting to suspect that part of the reason that she'd started consulting with the local authorities in the first place was because _he'd_ inspired her. Something that, among other things, implied that he'd crossed her mind in the year since they'd parted. It was also impossible not to suspect that the reason she was so insistent on being kept in the loop on this case (when clearly Lisbon had it more than under control) was that Ms. Frye found it just as intriguing to work with him as he did with her.

People with their particular skill set were so few and far between, when they did meet up there was almost always an explosion of one emotion or another.

And for some reason, this time Jane didn't find her mere presence as irritating as he had the last time they'd crossed paths.

Oh, her insistence that it was "the spirits" talking to her was still completely ludicrous. Nothing more than spiritual poppycock intended to bolster her image and help her sell herself, obviously. But Jane understood that, could respect it almost. It got a bit trying, watching her ply her trade all the time, especially since what she did was almost an almost exact facsimile of what he'd done before he got his wake-up call. Jane wasn't sure whether to be amused or uncomfortable about it. He definitely found it entertaining to try and decipher how she'd guessed what she had though. A challenge of sorts, to see if he could follow her logic, could make the same deductions. It was quite the stimulating mental exercise really. She provided any number of attractive little puzzles did Kristina.

And any irritation Jane may have felt by her was originally well-buried under all the other things he was experiencing at the same time: personal interest, maybe even sexual interest, a desire to spend time with another human being, probably even a measure of affection of sorts, definitely awkwardness in her presence because of all the rest, and flattery. Flattery because he didn't need to be one of the most perceptive men in California to deduce how she felt about him in return.

Her methods of attraction might have been unorthodox (and he'd admit privately, a little confusing), but her interest was so obvious that even Hightower had noticed.

Something Jane wished could have been avoided.

He remembered Hightower's smug observation. "She likes you that one," the director of the CBI said with a little smirk as she gestured into the office where Kristina was talking animatedly to Lisbon about the case.

"Which one?" Jane stupidly asked. After all, the answer should have been _obvious_. There was only one person he should have been even considering as an answer. The last thing he needed was Hightower to get suspicions about his relationship with _Lisbon_. Madeleine had already tried to use his affection for his boss against Teresa once, and that was when the director had believed that their relationship was strictly platonic. What would the interfering woman try and do if she knew the truth?

But the truth didn't seem to occur to Madeleine Hightower. "The blond one," she replied, her tone condescending.

"What?" Jane asked, too quickly. At least this time he could attribute his incomprehension to the fact that the conversation was so far beyond what he'd ever expected to talk to Madeleine about that his discomfort was practically a given.

"And you like her," Agent Hightower said, continuing blithely on with her train of thought as if Jane hadn't spoken and hadn't expressed even the slightest bit of surprise at the idea. Jane supposed she was right though. He _was _feeling pulled in by Kristina, by the promise of a challenge and by their similarity of mind. But he certainly didn't want _Hightower _commenting on it. The other times the Director had inserted herself into the relationships of the members of the Serious Crimes Unit the results hadn't been particularly favourable.

Besides, there was still the issue of Lisbon.

Jane glanced back at the two women in the room. Both of them intrigued him. He cared about both. "I'm not so sure I know where this is headed," he said slowly.

"You know exactly where this is headed," Hightower replied, steamrolling over his attempts at avoiding the conversation. "Do you ever consider dating again? Do you?" she asked, her expression both superior and indulgent. It was an impressive mix, and not one you saw all that often.

That was when Jane did what he did best; he tried to deflect. "How did we get to this point so quickly?"

"I'm just saying I think it would be a good thing," Hightower explained to him.

Which, obviously if _she_ thought it was a good thing for him to start dating then _obviously_ it must be so Jane thought cynically. He wasn't sure exactly why the head of the CBI thought she had the authority to butt into the relationships of her employees (other than maybe those that countermanded the organization's own code of conduct, _maybe_), but Jane found it all extremely tiresome.

Luckily he was to be granted a temporary reprieve, though not one designed to make the situation any less complicated.

"What would?" Lisbon asked as she walked out of the room with Kristina.

Hightower had covered quickly with information about the case. Lisbon hadn't suspected a thing (and why should she?), but _he'd_ still been shaken.

Caring about either woman was bad. Caring about both was ten times worse. Hightower certainly wouldn't like it if she knew how much he cared about one. And Red John definitely wouldn't like if Jane cared about either.

It didn't even occur to Jane at the time that his boss might be trying to help him move on. His mind had already moved on to damage control. Did Hightower suspect? She'd already tried to use his positive feelings for Lisbon once. Exactly how strong did she think they were? And if she had suspicions, what did Red John think?

Lisbon and he weren't exclusive, not by any means. They weren't well defined enough to even have a discussion about it. The two of them were something to each other, something that wasn't easily characterized. And something that was both good and bad for the both of them.

Jane turned his attention to Kristina. She _was_ a beautiful woman. There was no denying that. Intelligent, quick, manipulative. He understood her, and to an extent she understood him. She understood his abilities (for obvious reasons). They both had a lot in common. He'd admitted that he'd already found himself... drawn to her. And like he'd said, she was obviously displaying some interest in return. She was novel.

Almost everybody expected him to do something about that. If he didn't, would they wonder why?

Even Lisbon seemed to expect it. Jane had caught his boss smirking at him and Kristina more than once. He'd had no trouble reading exactly what was going through _her_ mind on the subject.

Jane paused. The idea of going out to dinner with a woman like a normal person had its attractions. Anyone would be able to understand that.

And Lisbon was far more understanding then most.

xxxxx

She didn't know how to react to this. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel.

Jane had gone out on a date.

With another woman obviously.

Not that she had any say in the matter. She and Jane certainly didn't date.

Well, okay, they had gone out to dinner that _one_ time, after the Walter Mashburn case. But that hadn't really been a _date._ That had been a one-off, easily explained away by the fact that Jane had been given a fancy car and he'd had no one else.

Something that was no longer true when Kristina Frye waltzed back into town.

When Van Pelt found the new Red John video Lisbon had obviously been preoccupied. She knew exactly what another Red John case could do to Jane, what it could to do the pair of them. Each time he committed another crime the serial killer managed to slip away without a trace. Each time that happened Jane slipped a little deeper inside himself and it took just a little longer, just a little more to eventually draw him back out.

Lisbon was terrified that one of these days he just wouldn't come back.

So it was understandable that she wouldn't have noticed something as trivial as a slight change in Jane's _wardrobe_ when he walked into the office to watch the potential Red John video.

Not right away.

On the other hand even _she_ couldn't ignore the presence of the other woman.

The other woman. God, it sounded like a bad romance novel.

Minus the romance of course.

That's about when Lisbon had realized that Jane wasn't wearing the suit he apparently wore every other day of the year. And Kristina Frye looked quite pretty herself. Very pretty actually. Her hair was rather elaborately arranged, something Lisbon had never learned the knack of doing. But then Kristina could do a lot of things that Lisbon never really had a knack for.

And that's when she realized it. They'd been together. After all, Jane certainly wouldn't have called Kristina to ask her for a second opinion on the case, not with a potential Red John involvement. And the idea that he'd called her for moral support was even more laughable.

No, they'd been… getting to know each other when Van Pelt had interrupted them with her phone call.

Lisbon couldn't say she was all that surprised. She'd known that Jane had been interested by the supposed-psychic. She'd have to have been stone blind _not_ to have noticed. And while she wasn't as observant as Jane was, she also wasn't a fool.

At first she hadn't been too upset by the idea. Maybe it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

After all, a more normal social life would be good for Jane. Some sort of varied interaction, something other than sleeping on various couches in the CBI at all hours or obsessing over the case files of a serial killer might actually help him move beyond his obsession with Red John. Kristina Frye was friendly, and pretty, and had seemed reasonably sane, even with her unorthodox abilities. She could have been a positive influence.

Besides, as she'd already said, Lisbon certainly didn't have a claim on her consultant.

She'd never been under any illusions about what she and Jane were doing. Yes, they slept together from time to time. Yes, they spent some time together outside the office, confided in each other to an extent. And yes, Jane cared for her, in his way. But they'd never had a traditional relationship. She knew she'd get no declarations of love, no roses, no intimate evenings over coffee. They both got a companion when times were especially tough. Another person who was _there_, someone who knew them, who wasn't anonymous.

It was more than comfort but less than courtship.

But maybe the halfway thing that they were doing wasn't good for either of them. Maybe it was time for a change. The advent of Kristina Frye was a sign of _that_, if nothing else. Maybe Lisbon should just let Jane make his choice.

After all, she was getting sick of fighting fights that she almost certainly won't win.

And Jane's fascination with the persuasive, observant woman made sense. It was like recognizing like. They understood each other, in a way that few other people would be able to. They both loved to manipulate. They were both so similar. Jane was enjoying the challenge of Kristina. Kristina was an enigma that Lisbon herself could never hope to match. After all, Teresa Lisbon was fairly straightforward, all things considered. She was a cop, a good cop of course, but that wasn't the point. She did what she did out of a desire to save people. Jane had figured that out almost immediately. He also knew all about her issues with trust, with relationships, with really any setting outside of work. She wasn't transparent, she knew that, but he seemed to see through her anyway.

Maybe she was too straightforward for a mind like Patrick Jane's.

It sounded terrible. Terrible, and self-defeating, and self-pitying, and a million other things that normally she'd hate. It sounded like that, but it wasn't really.

It was just the way things were.

She was confident in the workplace, but not anywhere else. She couldn't blame Jane for considering a woman who was.

Lisbon had always known what they had wouldn't last forever.

But still, he _had_ gone out with another woman.

And that stung.

He hadn't even bothered to talk to her about it first.

Jerk.

And Jane had to have been considering the idea for a few days at least. After all, Jane's 'date' had occurred days after they'd closed the human-trafficking case, which was almost certainly when the plans had been made. Lisbon knew that Jane had followed Kristina out of the building; ostensibly to reinforce his position that there was no way Kristina had any sort of genuine connection to the afterlife. But his impulse to chase after her had been more than that. Lisbon knew that now.

He'd probably asked her then. It would have been the perfect opportunity. And Lisbon hadn't seen him again that night.

Actually, she hadn't seen him alone much over the intervening days either. In and of itself that wasn't surprising.

Like she'd said, they _weren't_ in a relationship. They didn't see each other on a regular basis. Sure, it averaged out about once or twice a week, sometimes more. But that was an average. They tended to spend more time together when one of them was stressed, or upset, or things were going badly. It wasn't unheard of for the two of them to go a week without one of them showing up at the other's door late at night with take-out, or a movie, or maybe just a secret smile.

Still, even if he hadn't shown up at her apartment (and his reasons for not doing so were sounding less and less like coincidence), Jane _had_ still spent more than one of the intervening evenings on the couch in her office while she filled out paperwork. If he'd wanted to he could have brought up his dinner with Kristina then.

But he didn't.

Probably didn't want to make it more awkward than it needed to be. Or maybe he figured she'd never find out. After all, she certainly wouldn't have ever _asked._

He'd tried to talk to her after the fact, but she hadn't let him.

For one she'd been a little busy. For another, well, she wasn't a saint.

They'd been in the middle of the case. Marley Sparrow's case. It was still before Kristina had antagonized a serial killer so the case hadn't really been about Red John. The serial killer wasn't hadn't been directly responsible for any deaths. Not yet at least.

Jane showed up at her office. He even knocked on the door so she'd known right away that something was up. Whatever her consultant was going to say, it wasn't about the case.

"Lisbon," he said quietly from the doorway.

"Come on in," she replied, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. "Just give me a second," she added as she finished up something on her computer. "What can I do for you?" she asked lightly, her tone friendly. Like this was just another normal visit. Like he was going to ask her if he could go visit the crime scene with Cho, or hypnotize the members of the campus film society with Rigsby, or who knows what with Van Pelt.

"Teresa," he said softly. "We need to talk."

"About what?" After all, maybe if she played dumb, he'd just go away.

No such luck of course. "You know what," Jane admonished lightly.

"Jane…"

"About Kristina," he started to explain, after squaring his shoulders like he was going into battle.

"You don't have to explain," she said quickly.

"I don't?" he wondered, obviously confused..

"No," she told him. "I understand."

Jane frowned at that. "I don't think you do," he said slowly.

But she wasn't up to having that particular conversation. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever be up to it. "Look Jane," she said to him, cutting off any explanation he may have been inclined to give. "I don't have time to get into all this right now. I know that in your mind this case is just a Red John copycat so you think it's almost too straightforward to really bother with, but _I_ still need to concentrate on solving it. We can talk later."

Jane looked relieved at the reprieve she'd granted. "Okay," he said softly.

"I'll talk to you later," she repeated just as quietly. "I've got to finish going through this."

"Right," he'd said. "And Lisbon?"

"Yeah?" she asked.

He took a breath, then shot her that charming grin and waved a hand in her direction. "Never mind," he said. "We'll just talk later."

She'd just nodded.

They hadn't talked later.

He tried again once the case _had_ become a Red John case. When the television interviewer was murdered. When Kristina was in protective custody.

Yet again, Lisbon found Jane in her office doorway.

"Lisbon," he said.

She knew what he was going to say. "Jane," she said. "I know, but I can't do this now."

But this time he was more insistent. "Teresa, I…"

"Jane!" she cut him off abruptly. "I _can't_. Okay? I'm sorry. I know you care about her, and I can't even imagine what's going through your mind right now, but I need to focus on the case. I need to work. Do you understand?" She suspected he did, probably more than she wanted him to. So she steeled up and took refuge in the same thing she always did. "I can't have my focus being divided right now, not anymore than it already is," Lisbon explained. "And right now the case is more important."

His smile had been watery then. The same smile she saw from time to time whenever Red John resurfaced.

"Right," he said mirthlessly. "Work. You're right. Of course you're right. This comes first."

"We'll talk later," she'd said again.

"Of course we will," he said, obviously not believing her.

He'd had reason to of course. She hadn't believed herself, and with good reason. They hadn't talked later. But it hadn't seemed relevant. Not after Kristina disappeared. Or maybe it wasn't that it wasn't relevant so much as that it was too difficult a subject to broach. Lisbon didn't want to remind him about what had happened, not any more than necessary. After all, Frye was almost certainly complicit in Red John's schemes or she was dead. Lisbon wasn't even sure which outcome was worse from Jane's perspective.

She didn't know what Jane thought about really anything that had happened. Maybe he thought that since they'd never actually closed the case that that technically meant that the two of them didn't have to talk about it.

So Lisbon never did find out what he was going to say to her that night. Whether he was going to apologize, to explain, or maybe just to let her down gently.

Or…

Well… maybe it didn't even matter in the long run.

xxxxx

Lisbon had known what was going on the entire time of course. Maybe even before he had.

She'd been watching him with Frye. Always tactful of course. She was still Lisbon, even if the man she occasionally slept with was obviously intrigued by another woman.

Why didn't she hate him again?

Jane didn't know. But he'd made the mistake of assuming how she felt about something once before, he wouldn't do it again.

Of course, he hadn't also bothered to actually _talk _to her about it either. Coward that he was.

She'd even volunteered to take the first shift protecting Kristina with him, after the stupid, arrogant, foolish woman had antagonized Red John, just as he had years ago. That had probably been on Lisbon's list of the top ten things she'd never wanted to do. Well, Jane was sure it would have been if the possibility of that particular set of events had ever occurred to the Agent. Lisbon _must_ have been upset though. She'd had to watch a man she cared about concerned over another woman. And it wouldn't have just affected her for personal reasons. Protecting an unbelievably arrogant woman who'd almost certainly (and completely avoidably) signed her own death warrant was hardly a good time for anyone. That coupled with the other stuff involved, well, if Jane hadn't acknowledged Lisbon's poise _before_…

It was disconcerting how normal she as being about the whole thing actually. When the two of them arrived at Kristina's house which apparently reminded her of a day spa (though Jane couldn't help noticing the particularly unwelcome similarities to his own house in Malibu), Lisbon had been polite, competent, professional. Not even a hint that she'd probably have rather been just about anywhere else on the planet at that particular moment.

But Jane'd known the truth, somehow.

She was angry, angry, and defensive and probably hurt. But instead of expressing it she'd just shut down.

He'd known that Kristina's unbelievably stupid interview had infuriated her just as much as it had him. Perhaps more so. He'd know that Lisbon wanted to smack the woman silly for it. The faintest trace of anger and irritation between her eyebrows gave her away.

Though Jane was ashamed to say that at the time he'd barely even noticed how Lisbon was feeling.

He'd been so wrapped up in his own concern, his own panic that another woman he cared about might become one of Red John's victims that he hadn't seen what he was putting his boss through.

Lisbon on the other hand, seemed to understand his mind perfectly. She'd been able to see right through him. On any other day he'd have laughed over their apparent role-reversal.

As it was, he could only be mildly ashamed of how he'd dealt with the situation.

They'd gone back to the CBI at the end of their shift at Kristina's, after he'd been awkward, and concerned and _guilty._ Needless to say, it had not been a comfortable car ride. He'd been positively manic, while Lisbon had been soothing as usual, assuring him that they were protecting Kristina as well as they possibly could. At least she had been at the _start _of the ride. But even she couldn't keep up the front this long. This time the tiredness had made just the hint of bitterness in her voice barely discernable.

"We need…" he kept repeating. "We need to be watching. Red John will try and get to her Lisbon. And when he does we need to be there."

"Jane," Lisbon said patiently. "We have a team watching the house. Van Pelt's with her now. Kristina's as well protected as we can make her. If Red John tries to get to her now, we will catch him and we will stop him. Right now _we_ have to go back to the CBI, we need to try to figure out who killed Marley Sparrow and then we need to get some rest."

"Well, I'm hardly going to be getting any rest," Jane told her peevishly. "And I doubt I'll be thinking too much about Marley Sparrow Lisbon. We're talking about Red John here"

"And that's all that matters to you isn't it?" Lisbon demanded, her control finally snapping. "Who cares about the other victims as long as Red John is involved? What does it matter if their families get closure? If they get justice? Just as long as you get your precious revenge."

"Well of course that's not true," Jane said quickly. "It's very important that Marley's murder gets solved eventually. But excuse me for placing just a _little_ more importance on catching the serial killer and trying to _prevent_ someone else from getting killed. I'm being proactive Lisbon. I thought you'd like that."

Lisbon sighed. "And there's nothing we can do about Red John right now Jane."

"Sure we can," he disagreed. "And you _know_ why I'm here, what I need to do. If you wanted to there are things we could do to find Red John."

But Lisbon hadn't conceded the point. "Like what? Go and hover over Kristina Frye until she orders us out of her house? Until we burn out and we're useless for protection anyway? Not happening! We need to clear our heads, and we need to do what we can to catch Marley's killer, like Hightower ordered us to do."

"Forget Hightower," he shot back.

Lisbon frowned then. "You might have that luxury; I don't," she reminded him.

He felt suddenly guilty, "Lisbon that's not what I…"

But she interrupted him. "I'm doing my job Jane. That's all. I'm just… I'm doing my job. And I'm getting tired of having to force you to do yours too. So if you can't cooperate could you at least sit there and shut up? Worry about Kristina Frye if you want to, but do it quietly and let me work," Lisbon said bitterly.

"Lisbon," he said. "I…"

"That's not quiet," she snapped quickly.

So he'd done what she wanted. Figured he at least owed her that. She'd gotten herself back under control by the time they arrived back at the CBI and she had to check back in with her team.

Jane hadn't seen what the big deal was though. They'd already identified the mostly likely suspect for Marley's murder. Now they just had to figure out how to find him.

Planning the operation had distracted Lisbon from him for a while. But when her attempts to apprehend the man (who as it turned out wasn't even guilty) failed, Lisbon took the time to check in with him again. She was calmer now, and she wanted to make sure he was alright.

Needless to say his mental state hadn't been good.

But then she'd already known that. "You should make that call," she'd told him sweetly, no judgement in her voice.

"What call?" he'd asked, in what was quite possibly an attempt not to rub his concern in her face. He didn't know, and he was loathe to give himself any credit where his behaviour towards her was concerned.

She'd seen right through his pitiful ruse. "Right. Like I'm not a detective too," she'd said, almost amused. She wasn't angry. She'd simply recognized his discomfort and that he cared about Kristina.

No jealousy though. Unless she'd hidden it well. Admittedly Jane hadn't been at his most perceptive. But assuming he was right, why wasn't she jealous?

Did he mean that little to her? Was what they were doing so unimportant to her that she didn't even see the point in getting jealous?

Or had she already given up on him? Decided to cut her losses?

_Or,_ was she dropping it because she knew how big a deal Red John was to him? Maybe that was it. Maybe she even figured Kristina was a moot point thanks to his obvious contempt for her little interview.

Jane had watched Lisbon walk away, considering. But in the end he'd picked up the phone to call Kristina.

He really had been distracted. Because it didn't even occur to him that yet again, he had absolutely no idea what Lisbon was thinking.

Now, after the fact, he realized it, He didn't like it.

And he still didn't know if she was hurt, angry, or just plain indifferent.

In fact, the only time she'd gotten annoyed at all hadn't even been about Kristina, not really, but Red John.

The two of them had gone to the crime scene in Nevada, seen the woman who'd interviewed Kristina cut up on the bed. They'd both known it was Red John taking his revenge for the arrogance of someone who thought they knew him.

Jane had panicked.

No other word for it. He'd wanted to go to Kristina's house immediately. To do what, he wasn't sure. The woman's own observation that there wasn't a thing he could do to protect her was sadly accurate. He may be able to observe enough information to solve a crime, but as a protector Patrick Jane was sorely lacking.

Still, he needed to be there. And he'd said so.

That's when Lisbon had gotten angry.

"You really want to go back and hang out at Kristina Frye's house waiting for Red John to show up?" she snapped, suggesting instead that they head back to work the case he was supposed to.

Despite knowing that he was useless as a protector, Jane knew he would be equally useless as an investigator. He could no more concentrate on the Marley Sparrow case then he could fly. Not with Red John so close and interfering in his personal life again.

This time is stubbornness had finally been too much for his partner.

"Right, fine. Go and wait for Red John!" Lisbon practically yelled. "It's not a good idea though." She'd sounded defeated and upset. That alone should have made him hesitate.

It didn't.

He'd been wrapped up in his own little world, a world where a serial killer could threaten the women in his life any time he chose to.

Jane knew he was lucky that Lisbon hadn't just left him in Nevada. She hadn't, but she'd made her displeasure known the entire car ride back to Kristina's house.

She'd sat in silence, glaring at the road, at the on-coming traffic, at her mirrors, at the radio, at her dashboard, basically glaring at anything that she could possibly glare at without turning her head or in any way acknowledging his presence.

Jane knew he probably should have let sleeping dogs lie. He would have if he'd had any sense of self-preservation. Of course, it was well known that whenever Red John re-emerged in his life that Patrick Jane's sense of self-preservation disappeared immediately.

"I don't know why you're so angry," he said to the woman sitting next to him. "You know as well as I do that you don't need me to help find Marley's killer."

Lisbon was silent.

Jane didn't take the hint. "And aren't you always telling me that you don't _need_ me to solve your cases. That you and the rest of the team can do quite well on your own? Admittedly you only say that when you think my ego needs puncturing…"

"So all the time then," Lisbon muttered darkly.

"And you also claim that you keep me around because I solve cases," Jane continued. "We both know I'm generally quite helpful Lisbon, but we also both know that today I won't be helpful to you back at the CBI."

"As opposed to at Kristina Frye's house, where you're _absolutely necessary_," Lisbon said viciously. "After all, she's only surrounded by a team of very capable law enforcement professionals, professionals who are _trained_ to protect people in danger. But you're right. I'm sure they'll need _you_. The fake psychic."

"Hey," Jane said raising his hands in self-defence. "I'm concerned about a friend. If you have a problem with that…"

"I _don't_ have a problem with that!" Lisbon snapped. "I'm glad you're concerned about other people Jane. I'm glad that you took it upon yourself to actually _interact_ with another human being! What I'm not happy about is your bull-headed idea that you need to sit around at Kristina Frye's house waiting for Red John! We don't even know if he's going to go there."

Jane started to interrupt.

"_You_ say he is!" Lisbon continued. "But you don't know, and you've been wrong about Red John before. We both have. Not to mention you're pissed off at Frye anyway. Don't even try and deny it. You're mad because she went and did the exact same thing you did. And sure, _most_ of you wants to protect her, but a small part of you wants to rub her face in it, just a little, for being so stupid. So what? You're gonna go there, add _absolutely nothing_ to the protection efforts, probably be more of a distraction than anything else and quite probably verbally tangle with Frye." Lisbon took a breath, "Yeah, for some reason I still don't think that's a very good idea. But what do I know? I'm just the one who's been trained in protection, who's up on police procedure. I'm just the damn CBI agent here. But you don't give a damn what I think. You're just gonna go and do whatever the hell you want to no matter what I say. So here we are Jane," she said viciously as she threw the SUV into park. "We're outside Kristina's house. It's what you wanted. Get out."

"Lisbon…" he said softly.

"I said get out," she bit out. "I'm giving you what you wanted, now go. Go and wait for Red John like a stupid sitting duck."

"Thank you for the ride," he said as he got out of the car. But she drove off without listening to him.

He watched her go for a moment before heading into the house. Lisbon was wrong, he thought as he identified himself to the officer at the front door. He wasn't just here because he wanted to wait for Red John.

But then, he thought as he walked inside. Maybe he was wrong too. Maybe Lisbon wasn't just angry about Red John either. He wished he'd had the courage to ask her.

xxxxx

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's part 2.

xxxxx

Maybe she'd always expected to lose Jane.

After all, she's never been Jane's first priority, that's always been Red John. Every time the serial killer kills another victim Jane spins off on a path tangent to reality where reason and logic apparently can't reach him. So maybe, deep down, Lisbon had just always _expected_ him to be distracted by other things that came up, no matter how much he cared.

Maybe Kristina Frye was just one of those other things.

Besides, her apparently attractive air of vulnerability (or whatever it was Jane and Mashburn had been complimenting her on all those months ago) notwithstanding, Lisbon's never been the type that men flock towards. They don't treat her like a leper or anything, but she's just never been all that good at the whole relationship thing.

Besides, she was a cop. She needed to look the part. Flirtation and feminine outfits sure weren't going to get her all that far in her chosen career. She was pretty enough, but she certainly wasn't anything special. She wasn't the type that men stopped and stared at. That was more likely to happen to Van Pelt. Actually, it was kind of funny when it did. Especially if Rigsby happened to be around.

And Lisbon was fine with the way she looked, really she was. If she _had_ started getting a sudden bunch of male attention she wouldn't have even the slightest idea of what to do with it. She was sure she'd just be awkward and uncomfortable. She'd always been more comfortable in an interrogation room then on a first date anyway.

Sure, she probably _could_ have gone out and slept with any number of men, but she didn't _want_ to. She didn't _want_ to have exciting sexual encounters with near strangers. She didn't _want_ to go pick up guys in bars. That wasn't the type of thing she was after. She was fairly simple, no air of mystery, of flirtation. Just sensible Teresa Lisbon, who, in her experience, most people seemed to like. (Okay, the criminals she arrested, not so much, but she didn't care about them). Maybe she wasn't the most thrilling woman on the planet, but she had her moments.

Patrick Jane, on the other hand, seemed to positively crave excitement, drama, _theatre_. He was always poking his nose in people's relationships, wanting a challenge or even just a distraction of some kind. Jane always seemed to be in search of a diversion of some kind. And she certainly wasn't all that mysterious.

Kristina Frye though… she had that whole enigmatic thing down pat.

Insisting that she was a psychic, and then when Jane called her on it asking him with a secretive little smile if he didn't know her by now, which had doubtless only intrigued him further.

It had been all Lisbon could do not to roll her eyes at the pair of them.

But the woman knew what she was doing. And she'd kept Jane on his toes for literally days, a feat that Lisbon managed to accomplish maybe once a month, if she was lucky.

Patrick Jane wasn't the type to pass up a challenge.

Kristina was challenging.

So when the psychic provoked a serial killer Lisbon wasn't surprised when Jane wanted to go and watch over her.

Sure, Lisbonhadn't understood at the time why Frye had felt the need to go on television and say what she said (though she had a couple of ideas now). But she hadn't worried too much about it. Why Kristina Frye had chosen to be a moron wasn't Lisbon's problem. It didn't matter. All that mattered was trying to protect her after the fact.

Even if a part of Lisbon she wasn't particularly proud of could have quite happily left the other woman to fend for herself like she apparently wanted to.

Jane didn't see things that way. He couldn't stop puzzling over what Kristina had done and, more importantly, _why_ she'd done it, all the while the need to both punish and protect fighting for dominance inside of him.

So when Jane insisted on going to watch over Kristina, despite the fact that she was already well protected, Lisbon wasn't surprised. Certainly not pleased, but not surprised. But what could she do? Forbid him from going there? She'd have to chain him to his couch to stop him. Either that or knock him unconscious. So she'd taken him. She'd glared her displeasure the entire way, and she'd yelled, but she'd taken him. Dropped him off at the other woman's door. Because apparently she was a masochist.

And as she drove away she tried to pretend that it didn't hurt, not even a little. That _of course_ Jane was concerned for a friend, _of course_ Jane would be this obsessed over any potential Red John victim, that Jane considered anyone that Red John killed now as a personal failure because he hadn't yet managed to kill the man himself. Lisbon tried not to feel upset that Jane had barely even _listened_ to her arguments about why going to Kristina's to wait for a serial killer was a bad idea. She even tried to comfort herself with the idea that where Red John was concerned Jane was often beyond the reach of mere reason.

It didn't matter though.

When she drove away, leaving him there she just felt defeated. Defeated and upset.

Because not only did she have to deal with that damn serial killer all over again, but she had to deal with Jane and his undefined feelings for another woman on top of her own undefined feelings for Jane.

And she couldn't help feeling particularly stupid.

After all, Jane didn't owe her a thing. He hadn't broken a promise to her. He hadn't…

She'd admitted to herself long ago that neither her professional nor her personal relationship with Jane would likely end _well._

This was what she'd expected. It was just happening sooner than she'd expected it to.

And you know what might have been the worst part? A small part of her couldn't help (stupidly) wishing that she could have been just the littlest bit mysterious.

xxxxx

He'd gone out on a date with a woman who'd either been colluding with Red John or been killed by him.

Jane didn't know what to think about that. For any number of reasons. He didn't know what _he _thought about it, and he definitely didn't know what Lisbon thought about it. Though he'd have liked to.

Actually, Lisbon was oddly calm about it all, at least on the surface. Didn't appear to really be jealous. A bit angry maybe, but almost like she'd been expecting it. Why should she have been expecting it? Of the two of them _he _was the one who should be expecting to be thrown out on his ear (though he probably would be _now_). Did Lisbon just anticipate betrayal from everyone now? Figure the only one she could trust was herself? The woman should be furious with him. Why wasn't she? Why hadn't she screamed, or thrown things? Okay, she'd snapped at him a couple of times, but that didn't count. Even if the two of them weren't exclusive, weren't even really in a relationship, surely she'd at least be feeling hurt. Had he wanted to hurt her? Was this just another one of his many attempts to push her away for her own good?

If it was, she wasn't quite reacting as expected.

But then he should have known Lisbon didn't ever do what he expected her to. Not where he was concerned at least.

Maybe he'd gone too far and now she didn't care about him one way or the other.

Sometimes, sometimes he just _didn't_ understand her. Not like Kristina. Kristina he understood. Or thought he had at least. He and Kristina were two sides of the same coin. Master manipulators, the pair of them. He understood the way she thought because he thought the same way. They did the same job, even if they called it different things. Jane had thought they were on the same side using different methods, but now he wondered if she'd just been playing him. Either she'd been playing him or she was dead. Sometimes he wasn't sure which he preferred. Not because of arrogance, oh no. Not this time. Well, okay, maybe a little bit of it was pride. But mostly he was worried that if she _had_ been playing him then she might now have information. And master manipulators _liked_ information. Collected it as easily as a kid in costume collected candy on Halloween. Information was to be used against the target, in this case him. Either she was a danger to him, or she was in danger herself, or it didn't matter anymore.

Still, whether she was guilty, dead or in danger, Jane understood Kristina Frye.

It was Lisbon who was foreign to him. Lisbon who constantly put the needs of others before her own. Who appeared to be more concerned about his mental state than the fact that he'd been flirting with another woman. Who put her job first and everything else second. Who her team called with updates like clockwork, because they wanted her direction. Who still treated him like a friend despite his many betrayals. Who'd apparently given up on ever having the type of relationship she deserved. Lisbon who was dedicated and responsible and kind and just, who hated drama and theatrics, who was almost everything he wasn't.

Lisbon, who'd put her personal feelings aside to protect a woman who by rights she should have wanted to throw off a cliff.

Ironically, it was the things that made her different from him that comforted Jane the most. Maybe they were also the things that made her better for him. What would he and Kristina have done in the long run, even assuming she wasn't in league with a murdering psychopath? Kristina Frye may have been _fond_ of Patrick Jane, amused and intrigued by him too. But neither of them would have ever backed down. Every moment they spent together would have been attempting to one-up the other, to prove mental superiority, him with his disdain for anything that smacked of charlatanism, her with her entire identity built around that very idea.

They'd have been sick of each other in a month.

He wasn't sick of Lisbon, not even years after first meeting her.

Lisbon was solid, Lisbon was comforting. He didn't know how she did it, but when she walked into a room she brought an air of control. Maybe it was just an illusion, but it didn't matter. Lisbon created calm.

Frye created waves.

And he didn't need any more disturbances. He'd had dinner with Kristina because he'd stupidly thought she represented normalcy. In reality she'd merely brought more chaos.

He'd sought comfort in the familiar, but in the end it was the opposite he craved. And it was only there that he found a moment's peace.

So why _had_ he risked it all?

xxxxx

Throughout it all she'd been nothing but supportive.

Maybe that had been her mistake.

After all, she'd certainly not _tried_ to separate the two of them, not even surreptitiously. And their mutual interest had been _obvious_.

When they first ran into Kristina Frye, the second psychic, Jane did what he always did when he felt threatened. He started showing off. Lisbon wasn't sure if he was trying to impress the girl or to assert his own superiority. It was always hard to tell with Jane whether ego or interest would win the day. Heck, in this case it was probably both.

Lisbon had originally thought that it would be a good idea to leave the two consultants alone for a while, maybe let them sort out what was going on between them. It was clear that Jane was intrigued, and the local sheriff certainly didn't need to be exposed to any more of his nonsense. Plus, if Lisbon was honest she didn't particularly want to watch them circle each other either. Somehow Jane's obvious fascination with Frye wasn't quite so funny this time around.

Maybe even then she'd known there was something different about it.

This time Jane's mockery had been more amused and less annoyed. There'd been less disgust and irritation and more interest.

Well, if Jane wanted to broaden his horizons it was probably a good thing. And the sooner Lisbon found out about it the better.

So when Kristina had called her to ask where Jane was going to be, she'd given the information willingly. Told the woman to meet him and Van Pelt at the motel where they were searching for one of the Carmens (thought they hadn't actually known there were two at that point). Why not tell her where Jane was though? The woman was trying to help with the case. Jane could probably use a friend or two. Lisbon had no good reason not to be pleasant to Kristina Frye, professionally or otherwise.

Lisbon had known Jane liked her. She'd watched the two consultants watch Van Pelt interrogate the still-living Carmen. Jane's eyes kept flicking to the psychic. He couldn't help himself.

While she got to stand back and watch it all.

And then, she got to watch it some more, when she assigned Jane and herself to the first shift of Kristina's protection detail. After all, he'd want to be there because of Red John, and as the team leader she should probably take the first shift.

So she had.

The stupid house really did look like a day spa, and a pretentious, expensive one at that.

She really wasn't comfortable there in the slightest.

She wanted to get the hell out.

Now.

But that wasn't an option. Instead of getting to leave she got to watch her consultant as he watched another woman like a hawk while she faded into the background mentally berating herself.

Had she inadvertently been pushing the two of them together? Did Jane think that that's what she'd been doing? That it didn't matter to her one way or another what he did?

That's not what she'd been doing. She didn't think so at least.

She'd just been trying to be professional. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't let her personal relationship with Jane (such as it was) affect her work. Ever.

Or maybe it'd been some kind of a test. A test to see what Jane would do, how he would act.

Maybe he'd failed.

Except that there hadn't been anything for him to fail.

After all, you weren't breaking the rules if there weren't any rules to break in the first place.

xxxxx

Everything about the damn date had been awkward in the end. Well, almost everything.

When he'd first asked Kristina for coffee, he'd been more uncomfortable than he'd been in a long time.

Jane admitted that he'd probably sounded like a fool. Awkward and uncertain, maybe even guilty as he stood there, oh so casually, asking Kristina if she'd wanted to join him for coffee. Then, if that wasn't bad enough, feeling the need to clarify that he'd have tea. (He wouldn't have needed to clarify with Lisbon; she'd have just _known. _He didn't babble like an idiot with Teresa.)

No wonder the woman had asked him point blank if it was the first time he'd dated since his wife.

How was he supposed to answer _that_ question? He could have said yes, but would she have left it at that? Jane certainly wasn't about to engage in a discussion about he felt about the whole thing, whether he felt any guilt about it, whether he was ready to move on (the answer which was proved to be almost certainly _no_).

He remembered Kristina kissing him by the elevator back at the CBI, after their date ended abruptly thanks to Red John. She'd had the foresight not to make it anything more than a kiss on the cheek. He'd been distracted, no longer caring about their evening. The one he'd been about to end for other reasons anyway. Grace's phone call had just saved him another awkward conversation.

On the other hand, Grace's phone call summoning him to the CBI also ensured that Lisbon found out about his dinner with Kristina, something he deliberately hadn't told her about.

Because he was a coward. And he'd told himself that it was just dinner between two friends, that Lisbon wouldn't have minded, that he was technically allowed to have dinner with whomever he chose.

Now she'd think he'd hidden it from her. Which he had.

Still, Grace _had_ saved him from having to tell Kristina that he wanted to cut their evening short just as the arrival of their waiter earlier in the evening had allowed him to avoid talking about his wife and his recent lack of dating experience.

Of course, just as Grace's phone call had been both a blessing and a curse, the waiter's timely interruption had also started _it,_ the psychic messages from the dead. Or maybe those were a set up. After all, Red John had certainly known about the message Kristina had relayed to the waiter from his dead uncle. The fact that the masked man had whispered "Roll Tide" was hardly a coincidence. Either the waiter had been involved, or someone else at the restaurant, or Frye herself.

Jane was sick of going around and around in his head about which it was.

Even before Kristina's potential kidnapping/escape into hiding, his date with her hadn't been ideal.

Oh, the conversation over their main courses had been fine. He'd been charming. He could almost always be charming after all. He was good at that, didn't much matter who his target was. And Kristina had, for whatever reason, wanted to be charmed.

Then all of a sudden he'd been looking at her, laughing and his stories, claiming that she didn't believe him (and who could blame her?), looking so pretty, and so happy, and the reality of what he was doing had come crashing down on him in a wave.

He supposed after the awkward beginning and his mixed motivations that he'd never expected things to ever go _this well._

To his credit he'd gotten to the men's room before fully allowing the anxiety to hit.

Jane remembered standing in that washroom twisting his wedding ring on his finger. All of a sudden the guilt had hit him like a wave. What was he doing here? Dining out with another woman! He always told women he was married, or barring that used Lisbon as an excuse. Sure, she didn't know he did it, but it was often convenient given his frequent general proximity to his boss.

Speaking of which, why was he feeling guilty _now?_ It was just dinner. Though even _his _brain didn't quite believe that. Everyone knew it was dinner with the possibility of more. He hadn't actually been planning on sleeping with Kristina. But there was always the chance for coffee later, for a kiss, for _something_. They hadn't gotten anywhere near that yet, and still there was guilt.

He'd never felt guilty like this with Lisbon. Okay, there'd been some guilt the first few nights they'd spent together. And sometimes there was guilt still, though it wasn't often related to his wife, but more to what he might be doing to the woman he was with. And Jane had never experienced this raw, gut-wrenching guilt when he'd taken Teresa out to dinner, or when he'd cooked for her in her own kitchen. What guilt he _had_ felt on his wife's behalf had been nothing like this.

It made him wonder, pacing around the small washroom, exactly which woman he felt he was betraying.

xxxxx

Lisbon hasn't talked to him about the date yet.

She says 'yet' like she was planning on talking to him about it later. Like she was going to sit him down and scream at him, demand to know what the hell he'd been thinking. Whether he'd even thought about her at all.

Whether he'd have wanted to date Kristina again if she hadn't disappeared into thin air a few days later.

Lisbon doesn't think she can ever confront him. After all, if she does that's an acknowledgement of how much he means to her. And she's feeling betrayed right now. She doesn't want to acknowledge how much he means to her, even if that would let her keep him.

She can't. She can't acknowledge how serious this might be getting (might have gotten?). It was never supposed to be serious. For so, so many reasons.

And if she asks him about the date then she'll have to tell him how hurt she is that he didn't even bother to tell her about it beforehand. Not that he should have. They aren't exclusive.

And then they'd probably have to talk about exclusivity.

She'd prefer not to have to hear him say that he was interested in another woman and that he might be again. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe Jane would be okay with making whatever they had exclusive.

But that would make it a relationship.

Making it a relationship was a bad idea, for so, so many reasons.

Jane is still in love with his ex-wife. And Lisbon's terrible at romance at the best of times. These aren't the best of times. Somehow they've slipped whatever they're doing under Hightower's radar (something she's both smug about and grateful for at the same time). Formalizing what they have would make it harder to conceal. And then there's Red John to consider.

What would the serial killer do if he thought Jane was moving on with his life?

Frye might be an answer to that question, depending on which side the woman was on.

So they don't talk about it. So Lisbon doesn't know if any (or all) of this has occurred to Patrick Jane. She doesn't know _why_ he thought it would be a good idea to openly (and cruelly) flirt with another woman right in front of her.

She'd thought that he wasn't anywhere near ready for a relationship; that he couldn't move on from his past. Now she's left with the suspicion that he just didn't want to make the effort with _her_.

And she feels like a coward because she can't bring herself to say anything about it.

She's worried that his answer would crack what little faith in the people around her that she has left.

As it is, he's made no promise, and they can carry on in a vague sort of denial.

He hasn't _technically_ broken his word. But she still feels like he _has_ betrayed her.

And she didn't know what to do about any of it.

xxxxx

She'd, she'd, she'd gone and done the absolute worst thing she could have possibly done! The ONE thing he'd have told her not to. If Kristina'd ever _condescended_ to ask his opinion on the subject.

But obviously she knew exactly what she was doing. Didn't need his advice. What did he know about going on television and antagonizing serial killers anyway?

Jane had thought her near constant relaying of messages from the great beyond was obnoxious, but this was beyond anything that he could have possibly imagined.

She'd told Red John that she was listening, to reach out, get help, to _change_. Didn't she realize that Red John didn't want to _change_? Even he knew that.

Stupid, stupid woman.

Lisbon would have never done anything so stupid. Lisbon was sensible. Always so sensible. So sensible sometimes it was easy to forget how sensible she was.

Whereas he was panicking. Again. He was furious with Kristina, but he insisted on protection. He'd brought her within Red John's sphere after all. If Kristina hadn't met him it was quite probable that she'd have gone on swindling fools out of their money with that small-town practice of hers. Maybe a bit exploitive, but overall generally harmless.

It'd obviously given her an inflated sense of her own self worth. Because the fact that she might be in danger obviously hadn't even crossed her mind.

Whereas he could barely look at her. Even Lisbon seemed to be getting frustrated with her constant drivel about contacting people who'd "passed over."

With each passing moment he'd been so sure she was going to be Red John's next victim. And what had she done, she'd yelled at him and ordered him out of her house.

Well, good riddance. She'd probably been helping Red John the whole time anyway.

He was going to turn his focus back onto the serial killer. He needed to. Before any other women were put in danger.

Besides, he had a clue now, a message.

And he wasn't going to tell Lisbon about it. Oh, he knows that she's worried, that she suspects. But Red John is his.

Maybe this is a sign that he should keep his distance.

He looked Red John in the eye. Kristina had been right about one thing. Red John wasn't a monster; he as a man. He could bleed like anyone else. He had flaws and he made mistakes. And that's how Jane would catch him.

That's how he would keep everyone safe.

That's why he was lying on a mattress beneath a bloody smiley face reciting the poetry of William Blake to himself over and over again.

It made him feel almost calm.

xxxxx

Jane was gone.

Jane was _gone._

He wasn't at the CBI. Hightower had gone to check on him and he hadn't been there. He wasn't answering his phone. She had a message from him on her voicemail, but he wasn't where he'd said he'd be and there were signs of a struggle inside the abandoned hotel that he'd told her about.

Plus, Jane still wasn't answering his damn phone!

And Lisbon was trying not to panic.

She didn't know quite what to do. The damn case being what it was there was no way of knowing who the hell Jane had rushed after, or who'd grabbed him. It could have been Frye, it could have been Red John, or it could have simply been related to Marley's killer.

Cho tried to tell her he was sure Jane was alright, that the consultant always made it through in the end.

Lisbon wasn't so sure.

But she'd done what had to be done. She called everybody back to the office. Van Pelt had started a trace on Jane's phone. That's when another alert had popped up on her screen. One addressed to Lisbon specifically, with an address. An address of where she'd find her consultant, _unharmed_ if incapacitated. Well, him and the murderers. Signed, Dr. Joe, N.H.

That's when she'd switched over to auto-pilot, let the cop part of her brain just take over.

She'd started barking out orders left and right, called for an emergency team to that location the second that Van Pelt's trace of Jane's phone confirmed the location, told the local authorities to exercise extreme caution, that they'd meet them there. Made sure her boss had no objection to it all, told her team to suit up. Within minutes the four of them were back in their SUV, speeding off to (hopefully) rescue her consultant.

She didn't let herself think about the alternatives, that Jane was already dead. Or that they were walking into a trap and the four of them soon would be.

She'd been expecting any number of things when she stormed into the building. She'd never anticipated three bodies on the ground and Jane tied to a chair, angry and terrified.

She'd approached him first, cautiously, carefully, after making sure that this wasn't a trap.

"Jane," she called.

"Lisbon," he said tiredly. "I knew you'd come."

Then he saw her face. "What is it?" he asked. "Is it Kristina?"

She should have known that would be his first reaction, but she tamped down her annoyance as she began to loosen his bonds. She shook her head. "No," she said. "Still no word."

"Then what?" he asked.

"Shh…" she told him. "Later. Let's get you out of here first."

"I'm fine Lisbon," he insisted.

"Oh yeah, you're just great," she muttered.

"Lisbon," he repeated, "How did you know I was here?"

"We traced your phone when you weren't waiting at the diner like you said you'd be," she explained. She should have known her attempt at evasion wouldn't work.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

She sighed. He'd find out sooner or later. "Red John sent us a message telling us where you'd be."

Jane swore. Then he'd explained to her what'd happened at the crime scene, exactly who had been responsible for the three gunshot victims.

Jane had come face to face with the serial killer. Well sort of. At the very least he'd looked into the man's eyes. Lisbon tried not to shudder at the thought.

He'd insisted that Red John hadn't said anything to him, nothing beyond killing the copycats for _daring_ to impersonate the master.

Lisbon wasn't sure she believed him. Actually, she knew she didn't believe him. Especially not after the past few days.

But she hadn't pressed him. Not then. She was too relieved to see him alive, breathing and unharmed. At least physically. Lord only knew what psychological effects would linger. And a visit to the departmental shrink certainly wouldn't clear them up.

She was trying to remain objective. She wanted him close to protect and guard, but she wasn't sure how close she wanted him anymore.

Maybe Kristina Frye had been a sign.

Or maybe she'd just been a manipulative woman who'd upset all of their lives. Another pawn in one of Red John's games.

Maybe she'd been part of a ploy to destabilize the team.

It was working.

Jane still hadn't talked to her about his intentions towards Kristina, whatever they'd been. But that wasn't all he was keeping from her anymore.

At least his reticence regarding his personal feelings for Ms. Frye that was understandable. And Lisbon hadn't actually _asked_ him about Kristina directly.

She had asked him about what had happened when he'd come face to face with Red John.

Multiple times.

She'd tried not to pry, tried not to force him. She was trying to be sensitive, knew it was a tough subject for the man. But still he shut her out, lied to her.

He didn't trust her.

And she felt like she might not mean a thing to him all over again.

She didn't like it.

She still didn't want to give up on him completely. He still dropped by her office, her couch, even her home, though not her bed. They still found a measure of comfort in each other, but not in the same way. They hadn't had much between them, but what little they had was changed.

And she still didn't know whether she thought that was good or bad.

xxxxx

He hadn't told her about Kristina to protect her.

What if Hightower suspected that he, Patrick Jane, unstable, unruly, unprofessional consultant extraordinaire had feelings of an inappropriate nature for his boss? Strong feelings, stronger than he wanted to admit to, even to himself.

Lisbon would suffer.

And what if Red John knew about those feelings. He undoubtedly knew so much more than Hightower did.

Red John had sent _her_ a message about where she could find him after he'd been kidnapped. The serial killer had addressed it to Lisbon specifically. Was that just because she was the head of the unit? Or was it because the psycho knew that Lisbon had the most reason to care what happened to him. At least, she used to.

Obviously Jane needed to deflect attention from how much he cared about his Teresa.

Or maybe not _his_ Teresa, not anymore.

He supposed he could tell her all of this, but it wasn't wise. The more people who were unaware, the better. Even if one of those people was Lisbon herself. It would make it look all the more authentic.

And anyway, deflecting attention from Teresa wasn't the only reason he'd asked Kristina to dinner. He could admit that, would admit that. If she ever asked, he'd have even told Lisbon herself.

Part of him almost hoped she would ask.

And then he'd tell her everything, wouldn't be able to help himself. The hope that it might matter just a little bit to her would be too hard to resist.

But then he'd be forced to admit how important she was. How much he wanted her. How much more comfortable she made him feel. That she was the person he cared the most about alive on the planet.

And that would make it harder to keep away.

As it was he was already doing a terrible job of that.

So he never brought up the evening he'd spent with Kristina, knowing that his silence on the subject was keeping them apart.

Because even a pleasant evening with Kristina hadn't been anywhere near as pleasant as a good evening with Teresa.

With Kristina there'd been constant competition. With Lisbon there were challenges, and there was a spark, but there was more than that. There was a rush of feeling whenever he touched her, a sense of quiet in her presence. There was easy laughter, shared meals, , shared experiences. There was a desire to protect, to help, to keep safe.

There was a sense that they might be able to help each other. In the end.

And that was what tore him up inside.

It stopped him from completely breaking off ties with the woman. That sneaky suspicion that maybe whatever the hell was between them might be good for both of them. Even if he was terrified to pursue it.

Teresa.

His subtly beautiful Teresa.

How had he let himself be distracted? And by someone possibly complicit with his god damn nemesis? He should have had his guard up.

After all, Red John had already proven more than once that he could get to literally anybody.

Well, almost anybody.

The only person Jane could be 100% sure of anymore is Lisbon.

And look what he's done to her.

She's the only person he trusts utterly and completely. And he's treated her terribly because he doesn't extend that same trust back to her. Not to mention he seriously damaged whatever was between them because he was distracted by a pretty face and manipulative mouth.

So where does that leave the two of them?

What does that make him? Beyond an idiot of course.

Why should she forgive him? He's not willing to explain, to take a chance, not with her life. So he may never get her back.

xxxxx

Lisbon doesn't know where they go from here.

She certainly isn't about to let her working relationship with Jane be affected by Kristina Frye, though the serial killer would, as he always did, leave a mark.

She doesn't want her friendship with Jane to be affected either. She had so few friends after all. Jane has even fewer. It isn't in her to abandon him to the wolves because of a single choice that she didn't agree with.

Actually two choices.

He's choosing to lie to her again.

As always.

She doesn't mind an undefined relationship. But she can't deal with feeling like she's a constant second choice.

He's disrupted their fragile balance.

She doesn't want to lose him, but she also isn't sure she wants to keep him either.

Not that she's ever thought she'd be able to keep him, not permanently anyway.

She isn't sure she trusts him.

She doesn't know what she wants.

But she's terrified of what might happen to him, cares about him enough that she doesn't want him to be alone.

She doesn't want to be alone either.

Maybe if he asks she'll let him partway in again.

Maybe…

xxxxx

Could he even go to Lisbon after what he's done? He doesn't deserve it.

She can't possibly believe a single word he says anymore.

He never thought he'd be able to keep her anyway.

But she did tend to give him what he didn't, doesn't deserve.

He needs to take a chance.

So he finds himself standing outside her door, late at night, knocking, hoping, praying, wishing.

She lets him in.

She makes him tea, just the way he likes it.

She holds his hand. Tightly.

She lets him hold her just as tightly in her living room, his arms wrapped around her for as long as he'd needs to.

She doesn't ask him to explain himself. In fact, she doesn't really speak at all.

She just tosses him a blanket and lets him sleep on her couch.

And he feels some slight comfort in the knowledge that she's still near, that he hasn't completely lost her.

Not quite yet.

But he really doesn't know how many chances he has left.

xxxxx

The end

xxxxx

Hey! Don't look at me like that. It's not MY fault it's depressing. Blame the writers. They were the ones who wrote the season finale. I did what I could. There's probably going to be a companion to this sometimes mid-season three. Possibly more. We'll see what happens in the new season.


End file.
